It Only Hurts
by RoweenaC
Summary: Dean's feelings and thoughts before the confessions. Spoilers up to Yellow Fever. The rest was my imagination. Turns out I was right. Sadly. *sighs* Sorry about the formatting, it wouldn't do what I wanted...


A/N: This is something like a train of thought. It was conceived and written before all the confessions, but after the Yellow Fever. So, some of it may not fit canon and the arch ofthe show anymore.

The title is taken from Default's It Only Hurts. Massively good song...

**

* * *

It only hurts**

by RoweenaC

Closing his eyes, the flashes criss-cross painfully red, scarring his eyelids.  
Reverberating screams fill his ears and slash across his heart leaving behind deep scars that will never heal.

Mocking and calling out to him at the same time.  
The yells fill his head every waking and sleeping hour.

His forehead creases with tortured wrinkles and he quickly opens his eyes again.  
Sure, the memories haunt him but he can manage that.

Wall up and game face on.

It only hurts when he closes his eyes and lets his guard down that the terrors return to him.

The atrocities he has been subjected to and has – eventually - committed himself.  
Those are the ones that hurt the most, devouring him,  
eating at him.

Gnawing at his soul

at his heart

at his will to carry on,

at his will to live.

How was he supposed to cope with that?

Why was _he _the one who got the get-out-of-hell card?

Why didn't the others...?

The others.

Closing his eyes against the unwanted memories,  
he swallows, hardly able to prevent a sob escaping him.

The others.

Bile rises bitterly in his throat as memories flood back.  
As he hears their screams, their pleas.  
Sees their tears still wet on their cheeks.

So real.

So unwanted.

Their pained expressions haunt him  
never leaving his thoughts and memories  
for more than a few minutes.

He can't escape their reproachful gazes.

He was terrified then...

He still is...

Every time he saw his own reflection in their moistened, begging eyes.  
The man looking back at him had no resemblance to him anymore.

Insanity permeating his expression,  
his open mouth seemed frozen in a silent scream.  
The agony marring his face and the hounded look in his eyes  
had horrified him beyond measure.

That hadn't been him.

Not the badass hunter, scared of nothing.

Never had he seen himself defeated and hopeless.

He was the one who used fear as a weapon, for crying out loud!

People – or any-freakin'-thing else that lurked in the dark - were scared of _him_!

The terror and agony showing in his eyes was the final push over the edge.  
Emotions deeply engraved in his features that used to be so skilled at hiding every true feeling.

Smirking and grinning against his worst fears.  
Wrapping him in ruination.

What no demon had been able to do  
he had achieved it himself.

He had welcomed the anger  
and will to avenge himself.

Had thrived on them,  
collected strength from them.

They had fueled his wrath to lash out and fight back,

to hurt,

to kill,

to retaliate.

Not caring who would suffer.

Only wishing for an end

for his eternal torment.

For his reflection in their eyes to be destroyed.

The screams had started again.

Only now he had been the one causing them.

A sick feeling of satisfaction had washed over him.

Not the victim.

No more.

Not _his _screams...

He had closed his eyes  
and tried to black out the yells assaulting his ears.

He had tried to distance himself from his actions,  
to save his bleeding soul from the pain he caused others and himself.  
To hide the last remnants of humanity,  
shrouding them from terror.

Silently praying for redemption to whatever power would deliver him from hell.

Yet, to no avail.

His rage had burned even stronger when his prayers hadn't been answered.

Someone had to pay.

Someone had to bleed for this!

NO!

He doesn't want to remember that now!

Guilt and regret fill his heart, chilling him to the bone.

Sudden nausea washes over him.

Jumping out of bed, he runs to the bathroom and kneels down in front of the bowl just in time to retch.

No one can know about it.

Never!

What would _Sam _think?

No, he could never look at Sam again.

Painful heaves shaking him from head to toe, from the inside out.

The shudders not only the result of the vomiting but also of the gruesome deeds.

The memories forcing him to witness an unwelcome rerun of his abhorrent actions.

He had to do it!

There had been no other way...

The only thing to persevere had been to give in.

_Hadn't it?_

They had shown him.

He had witnessed and suffered the alternatives.

And it had made sense.

The only way to prevail, to fight them

had been to side with them.

Screwing his eyes up against the once more agonizing flashbacks  
he makes a conscious effort to even out his breathing.

Sweat beading his unscarred features in a fine sheen and rendering him almost transparent,  
he huddles over the toilet, unable to process the impact of his memories.

Another wave of nausea hits home and he surrenders.

Again.

Surrender had never been in his character.

But _Hell _sure knew how to teach an old dog a new trick.

Nothing had helped.

Nothing had held up against their never ceasing attacks.

No snark.

No threats.

No resistance.

None of his many walls.

No pushing the pain back to the farthest corners of his mind.

Hell is different.

In the end he had yielded.

Compromised.

Made another deal.

Worse than the first one in retrospective.

Although, it had been the only way to pull through.

The only way to stop the eternal torture.

The never-ending torment.

To get a few breaths of relief.

To feel _nothing _for a few moments.

To just be.

The offer had been too tempting.

However, at the same time he had felt revolted.

Still feels revolted.

How did they do it?

How could Hell get to him like that?

Turning him into someone else.

A completely different person.

A person capable of accepting Hell and its rules.

A person marching with the troops.

A person eager to hurt others to save himself.

Unnoticed, salty tears run down his pale cheeks, pooling above his dry quivering lips.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, his lips tremble  
and he finally surrenders to the hopeless and regretful sobs threatening to overwhelm him ever since he had busted out.

His body crumbling down,  
echoing the walls inside his head,  
he still clasps the porcelain fiercely.

Spasmodic tremors shake him, wrack his body and leave him breathless, weakened.

Feeling endless remorse, he finally succumbs to blissful oblivion.

_Ends..._

* * *

Inspired by Season 4 and the beautiful song "It only hurts" by Default.


End file.
